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“No one’s shooting,” he said. “Look.” High above them, a hundred sparking lights dispersed, fireworks he’d engaged for the wedding. She flinched as another rocket boomed. He squeezed her shoulders and turned her so they could look up at the sky together.
“Where are they coming from?” she asked.
“They’re shooting them off the top of my house. Don’t worry. Just enjoy them.”
Behind them, on the beach and on the terrace, Michel could hear the drunken, happy wedding guests cheering with every boom and explosion of color. The air was just the right temperature, and the sky dark and clear. He realized Sara and Jason had been right, that May was a great time to be married. One of the thumping booms erupted into a great red heart in the sky, then turned orange and magenta as it fell away.
He looked over at Valentina, at the glittering sparks reflected in her eyes. “Je t’aime, ma chère.” The booms were steady now, building on one another to a climax. Bang bang bang bang, and then a hiss of lightning painting the sky in myriad, changeable hues. She turned and threw her arms around his neck. The racket of the fireworks seemed to shake the ground, their bodies, even their lips as they met in a passionate kiss.
Her lips were warm and responsive. Delicious. She tasted of wedding cake, sweet like sugar. Like candy. They reconnected there on the sand to the symphony of fireworks and the pounding of waves hitting the shore. He touched her everywhere, remembering. She still sighed the same way at this, or moaned at that. They hadn’t been apart so long that he’d forgotten any of it, and he hadn’t been with anyone else.
“I love you,” he said every so often against her lips, and she’d echo him in her sweet, happy voice. At last the volley of fireworks died down and ended. Michel tore his hands from Valentina’s curves and looked back toward the fire. He had no idea how long they’d been gone from the party. Even drunk, everyone would wonder where he’d wandered off to.
“I have to go back soon,” he said. “It’s Sara’s wedding.”
She nodded. “I understand.”
He helped her up and they brushed sand off one another’s clothes, then headed back toward his villa hand in hand. She had never stopped loving him. He could hardly imagine it. He felt humbled and incredibly fortunate. He’d been given a second chance—and this time he’d be much more careful.
“Where are you staying?” he asked when they were almost back.
“At the hotel with the others.”
“Will you stay with me tonight instead?” He left no question what he asked for. He used his Master voice, deep and resonant with demand.
Her fingers squeezed around his. “That depends. Do you have a cage to keep me in?”
I do, he thought. It’s called my heart. “I can’t imagine spending the night with you and not having a cage nearby,” he said aloud.
She laughed, her bright, easy laugh, but he sobered. He let go of her hands to trace her cheek. “Valentina, you forgive so easily. You frighten me.”
“Because I forgive? Forgiveness is an act of love, and I love you.” She reached to cover his hand with hers. “Anyway, you gave me time to learn, to adjust and change when I was confused in my life. When I was acting crazy, remember? How could I not do the same for you?”
His lips twitched. He didn’t know whether to scowl at her or smile. “Was I acting crazy, Valentina? Really?”
She blinked up at him. “Will you be angry if I answer honestly?”
He burst into laughter, wrapping her in his arms. He’d been crazy, yes, but he was finally feeling sane again.
“Daddy?”
They broke apart as Sara ran across the beach toward them, followed by Jason’s tall form silhouetted by the fire. “Daddy,” she called. “Where were you? Did you see the fireworks?”
He greeted his daughter and kissed her cheek. “They were difficult to miss. Yes, we watched them together.” He reached back to take Valentina’s hand, their fingers easily twining together. Sara stared, then whooped and did an ecstatic dance, her full, white skirts shimmying in the breeze.
“I’m so relieved you two worked things out. It’s the best wedding gift you could have given us, to see you smiling again.” She waved back toward the house. “Jason and I have been busy socializing. And drinking.” She laughed, stumbling sideways into her new husband. “We came to find you because we’re probably going to leave soon. We wanted to...to thank you for everything.”
“You are very much welcome for everything.” He tried not to lose his composure at the catch in her voice, the sheen of tears in her eyes. He let go of Valentina to take his daughter in his arms. “I hope this day was everything you’d dreamed.”
Sara clung to his neck, enveloping him in a hug. “It was more than we ever could have dreamed. Thank you for everything. Everything,” she repeated with feeling.
Michel held onto her, his beautiful strong daughter who was now Jason’s beautiful, strong wife. “I’m so proud of you. I love you so much.”
She drew away, giving him a small, secret smile. “I’m proud of you too.” She slid a look at Valentina, who was off to the side, exchanging quiet words with Jason. “I told you, daddy. I knew she was the one for you all along. Some things are meant to be.”
Jason turned from Valentina and held out a hand to Michel. He pushed it away and hugged Jason too. What the hell. Jason was officially his son-in-law now, irritating, controlling bastard that he was. “If you ever hurt my daughter, I’ll cut off your balls,” he murmured in French.
“I know. I’ll do the same if you hurt Valentina.” Jason smirked at him as he pulled away. “Just saying.”
Valentina watched both of them, and Michel had the distinct impression she’d understood every word of their conversation. “Have you been studying French?” he asked, one eyebrow raised.
“A little. We both have,” she said, sharing a smile with Sara. “Let’s hope both of you get to keep your balls for a very long while.”
Chapter Twenty: Mine
Even after midnight had come and gone, and Sara and Jason retired for the night, the party continued. Fortunately, her Master didn’t seem inclined to watch the sun come up with the other revelers. After a few words with the party staff, he took Valentina’s hand and led her toward the stairs.
She loved the way he gripped her hand, demanding her attendance. It reminded her of that first time at Cirque du Monde headquarters, when he’d taken her hand and led her through the corridors to his office. He’d been the lofty Mr. Lemaitre to her then. Now he was Michel, and he loved her.
He stopped at the top of the stairs and faced her. He placed his palms on either side of her head, gazing down at her with a thoughtful, almost worried expression.
“Oh,” she said. “Please don’t change your mind again.”
“No, it’s not that. It’s just that I want to do everything right this time. I want to think before I act. I want to do violently debased things to you but I want to be tender too. I’ll have to do both things to live with myself, and you’ll have to put up with it.”
Valentina desperately wanted both things. When he leaned in to kiss her, his fingers twisted in her hair so she felt the soft teasing of his lips as well as the sharp ache of his painful tugs. “Please, Master. Do whatever you want to me. I’m yours.”
He got that look at her words, that feral intensity in his eyes. Wild laughter carried up from the main room downstairs as guests stumbled in from the terraces. “Come on, then. Come to my room.”
/> He led her to a bedroom similar to the one in Paris, muted and cavernous, and mostly white and gray. He put the lights on low. There was a balcony to one side with glass doors that opened to the night sky. On the other side stood a monstrosity of a cage. It took up an entire corner, and unlike the sliding-panel bed-cages in Paris, this one was made with solid, immovable bars.
“For when you’re awful,” he said as she gawked at it. “Or when it amuses me to cage you. I don’t want you in there tonight, although you’re welcome to try it out. See if the view suits you.”
Valentina couldn’t resist. She crossed the tile floor and slipped inside the spacious cell. When she looked up, she saw the bars rose nearly to the ceiling. The floor felt hard and unforgiving beneath her feet. “This is scary,” she said. “It’s not so much a cage as a jail.”
He pushed the door shut with a resonating clank and leaned against it, gazing in at her. “Admit it. You love it. You’re wet as an ocean surrounded by these bars.”
“It’s not the bars making me wet, Master. It’s that you’re on the other side.”
He reached forward and pulled her close, so she was pressed against the iron between them, and kissed her until she was dazed. When he released her, she stared into his eyes. She never, ever wanted to forget this moment trapped in his cage. Not just trapped in his cage but trapped in his heart where she’d always hoped to be. She looked away when the emotion got too much, and took in the soaring, gleaming bare white walls of his kingdom.
He made a soft, amused sound. “You can draw on these walls all you like, scrawl all the words you wish. Sometimes they’ll be love words, and sometimes not, I suppose. No matter how much we love one another, we’ll have those times when you wish to kill me, and when I wish to put you in a cage and throw away the key.”
She smiled at his resigned tone. “I won’t ever wish to kill you, and I won’t draw all over your walls. Well, I don’t think so. I’ll try not to aggravate you too much. I know you prefer things to be calm and peaceful.”
